


Do the Right Thing

by ocjones



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4052497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocjones/pseuds/ocjones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The right thing." This notion will haunt both the Champion and her king as they try to figure out how to proceed in their new, strange roles. But what's right is relative, and doing the right thing will be more difficult than either of them ever dared to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes before we get started:
> 
> \- This will be a longer work. I currently don't have a posting schedule, but I have quite a lot of it planned in advance, so we'll see!  
> \- This fic will explore ruling and the Underground's laws. I once heard an author describe this situation in the "Labyrinth" fandom as "overly sexy 'Lord of the Rings'" (they weren't wrong) and I know some people don't like that in fics, so I figure it's a fair warning to give before you get invested.  
> \- I'm currently keeping things Teen-rated, but I make no guarantees they'll stay that way, and there may be archive warnings in the future.

_I've been meaning to tell you..._

My fingers tightened on the wheel. It was the first time my parents had let me use the car without one of them in it with me, let alone at night, and I wasn't going to let the song distract me. I considered mashing the radio button to turn it off, but the dial was temperamental and I didn't want to risk taking my eyes off the road.

Ashley was one of the few friends I'd retained forever, and she'd paired with me for the project our new teacher had assigned to be due on the first day of school. “The course offers college credit,” he'd reasoned to a classroom full of antsy, summer-ready juniors, “so I think it's fair that I get a good idea of your abilities before we get too far into the school year together.” In other words, _Give me this project so I can kick you out quickly if you're dumb._

Ashley, usually calm, was half-crazed about the project, so we'd spent the sweltering summer day inside, perfecting its finer points. If anything, I felt like a leech, knowing she had thought about school constantly and was so much more committed than I was. But I knew why she was concerned. I glanced down at my hands on the wheel, knuckles split and cracked with dried blood, and focused right back on the road.

_I've got this feeling that won't subside_

_I look at you and I fantasize_

_You're mine tonight_

The song had appeared a year after I'd gone...there. It had been on the soundtrack of a popular movie; every kid in school had the record spinning well into the school year. Eventually it faded away, mostly. Every time I heard the song, my chest tightened and my heart rate increased, preparing for an enemy I didn't understand. It took me months to realize why, to realize _who._

I always thought I saw him. My eyes created him everywhere, in places that he wasn't, and left me embarrassed by the comparisons. I would see glimpses of blond hair and for a moment be caught, my thoughts and heart seizing, before something would tell me, _Whatever you're seeing isn't half as good as him, isn't even close to what he is._ And the voice was always right, but it never, ever stopped me.

Except...

_Now I've got you in my sights_

I had been visualizing him so strongly that it took several seconds for my brain to process the way the speed blew the strands of his hair, the way the headlights moved on his clothes, the way he was utterly real and not at all imagined. I pressed my foot to the brake and floored it hard. The tires and brakes both squealed in complaint, but I stopped several inches from him.

The Goblin King's mismatched eyes caught the light and glimmered like an animal's. My mouth was dry and the car felt less like a castle and more like a cage. I climbed out, afraid for the moment when he was lost from my line of vision, afraid to blink. “What...” I whispered. So many ways I could end the sentence...I couldn't think of just one. I couldn't _think_.

“Sarah,” he began, voice still the same—still unnervingly _the same_ — “I must speak with you.”

Like an idiot, I rushed out, “You have no power over me.”

He hissed, “Yes, I know. Why do you think I'm so far from you?”

So far? If I took a few steps, I could've touched him. I moved forward as if to prove it, and noticed suddenly the bloody gash above his left eye. His blood was black, more like tar than rubies, but it couldn't have been anything else. “You're bleeding...” I whispered.

“I am breaking the rules to be here. The closer we get, the more I...” He gestured with a gloved hand to his forehead.

“Then leave,” I stated.

“We have to speak.”

“You can't be here.”

Even injured, vulnerable, he was still the king. He did something akin to rolling his eyes before telling me, “If it wasn't important, do you think I'd be here? Is it worth dying to be close to you?”

“I should think not,” I admitted, even as I felt more than ever I shouldn't be conversing with him. He was a damaged fae, but he was still fae.

He sighed a little. “Sarah—” There it was again, my name in two syllables, like a song— _Sa-rah_. “I came to warn you. That is all.”

“Warn me of what?” I took another step without realizing it. His teeth were suddenly stained black as he bled from the mouth, and he cursed in a language so potent it left my skin burning. We both stumbled back.

“Sorry, I...” I shook my head. “You came to warn me? Of what?”

The king, though, suddenly seemed interested in something else. “I know why I'm bleeding. The question is, Sarah,” he said softly, indicating my hand, “why are you?”

I fumbled with answers for a moment—answers he seemed very interested in, gaze intent on my face—before someone shouted, “Are you alright?”

Shit. I turned, seeing a woman with her dog, then turned again. The Goblin King was gone, and it struck me hard. The woman looked concerned, so I smoothed my face out into normalcy. “No,” I told her. “No, sorry, ma'am—I thought I saw something in the road—a dog. But it ran off.”

“Alright. I'll keep an eye out. Maybe you should be getting home,” she told me.

“Yeah,” I said, glancing back at the road. I expected to see something: glitter, a feather, a crystal, a destroyed castle. Instead I doubted I'd ever seen him at all. “Maybe I should.”


	2. Chapter 2

I made so many promises to myself: _I'll wait to see if he appears again. If he appears again, I'll hurt him on purpose._ The uncertainty struck me the most, so I tried to balance it with those rules. Perhaps I had done too much damage to him and he'd decided it wasn't worth it, or perhaps the visit was part of a game for him, and he would return eventually. I was able to dismiss the first possibility, but the second one stuck out of fear. Maybe it mattered that he had no power over me, and maybe it didn't—he could appear, after all, but it obviously hurt him. _Too bad—I'll hurt him even more if he comes back_.

Either way, I still looked for him when I passed the spot where we'd met. On the early fall afternoon of the first day of school, a few precocious red-and-orange leaves dusted the street, but otherwise it was silent.

My house looked much the same, with Karen clacking around in her ever-present heels, and I had an unpleasant sense of deja vu. But the sounds of a baby had long since been replaced with the sounds of toddler Toby, newly returned from preschool, a flurry of energy and childish wonder.

“Hey, Tobes!” I greeted him; he ran over to me immediately.

“We painted today!” he told me. “Did you guys paint?”

“I wish,” I replied. “Do you have any art to show me?”

He nodded, little hand pointing. “On the 'fridgerator.”

Karen came into view then, holding her checkbook. “Oh, hello, Sarah. I think the bank has made an error. Can you keep an eye on Toby while I call? They've switched to one of those dreadful automatic systems and it has to be quiet.”

“Sure. Tobes, why don't you show me the painting?”

My stepmother had the phone snuggled between her ear and her shoulder as she dialed the bank. “I painted an apple!” Toby shouted at the red blob. So much for that.

“Toby, shhh!” Karen whispered. “Remember, lips sealed like...like...”

“Like a letter,” I supplied softly. My stepmother nodded.

“Sealed like a letter!” Toby mouthed as he took exaggerated steps across the floor.

The wrong was rectified eventually, and I retreated to my room and spread my homework out across the desk, but chemistry couldn't interest me. I tried a few rough drafts, minus the all-important _I wish_ prefix, just in case writing it had the same effect. Eventually I settled on saying aloud, “I wish the Goblin King could appear in my room without being hurt so we could talk.”

And he did, just like that. This time, I studied him more closely, keeping my hands clenched on my chair to feel grounded to _something_ : that hair, always like a blonde halo around his pale face, and his mismatched eyes and regal demeanor. He wore the brown leather jacket he'd worn when Hoggle and I met the cleaners, and it had the same scent I'd smelled then: leather, cloves, pine, and something difficult to name, something smoky. Somehow I felt it was magic.

“In part,” he said, “I am glad you are learning to be careful with words. But in part, I'm sorry you didn't suddenly allow me more.”

I swallowed. “Will I always have to be so careful around you?”

He didn't answer. Instead, he walked closer, _closer_ , leaning over me and pointing to my text. “Electrons,” he nodded, fingers tapping over the pages. “You are familiar with atomic bonds?”

“About as familiar as you,” I replied; it felt like I'd stammered, even though I hadn't.

He leaned back and smiled at my nerve, but his eyes were dark. “We are covalent. We will share this power and be attracted to it forever. Our fates are sealed.”

“Sealed like a letter,” I finished, and he frowned.

“What?”

“Never mind.” I smiled a bit, and it made his frown deepen. “Do you expect fear from me, Goblin King? You won't get it.”

“I have no place for your fear, Sarah.”

“So...” My hands had tightened on the chair even further. “What happens now?”

“You haven't accepted your place yet. Magic cannot flow between realms unless anchored by someone, and it's very taxing. So powerful fae—yes, including myself—can travel between Above and Under, but until you go Underground, you will crave the power. But you won't have it. And it isn't good to feel that way for long.”

I looked at him a bit closer—was he serious?—but his gaze looked utterly honest. He still had that same fine-boned face and the mouth that looked like it lived to smirk, but there was no maliciousness visible. “To feel like what?”

“Imagine a phone ringing. At first it's quiet—it's easy to tune out. But then it gets slightly louder, and louder, and then louder still, until the only thing in your realm of existence is the sound of that phone, its shrill ringing at a deafening volume. That's what will happen to you. It's already started.”

“I don't feel that way.”

“ _Yet._ ”

 _Yet_. The word was suspended in the air, in my mind. “How long do I have?”

He tilted his head; the motion was owl-like, funnily enough. “That depends,” he answered simply. “The call of something like the Labyrinth is not easy to ignore.”

“So what does it depend on?”

Oh, there it was. He _smirked_ at me, and I almost scowled as a reflex. “How stubborn you are, to start. Although I'd happily bring you back with me now, I get the feeling you'll want to wait.”

“Why does it matter? Why so happy to reclaim the girl who bested you?”

The sharp-toothed smile disappeared; his head straightened. “It's not good for my kingdom,” he said finally. “It is an imbalance for you and for it.”

“But not for you?”

He squinted at me but was silent.

“Answer me, Goblin King.”

He looked down at his hands, either disaffected or posing as such very well. “I think I'll pass on that one, Sarah.”

“Fine.” I only had one important question left, anyhow: “So you're telling me my life here is over?”

“Once your magic has stabilized, you can return here for visits, but otherwise yes, you will live Underground.”

“For how long?”

“Forever, essentially. The magic will extend your life.”

My grip on the chair was slick with sweat, and something else—was it blood? I must have reopened the scabs from how hard I was clenching. I wanted to speak but simply couldn't. It reflected on my face, since he told me, “I am trying to be kind, Sarah.”

“I'm sure, Goblin King.”

“You say that with such disdain. You know my true name.”

“It's not a coincidence,” I told him. “I rescind the wish. I...I need some time to think about this.”

“You can't rescind wishes. You should know that by now.”

I watched him for a moment, but he stood contentedly. “I wish the Goblin King would bleed in my presence again.”

Without pause, he snapped to me, gloved hands gripping my shoulders hard. I watched, stupid and soundless, as he bled black from his eyes and blood poured from between his lips. “Now perhaps you'll understand why I called you _cruel_ ,” he rasped, and then he was gone, but the feel of his grip on my shoulders remained.

I didn't know how long I stayed frozen like that, facing sideways in my chair. I was trembling but I couldn't cease the shaking, no matter how diligently I tried.

No. No way. I had _beat_ him; I'd _won_.

Were the jitters a sign? Was I already dying? Wet tears hit my skin before I even knew I was crying, and I gasped, “ _Shit_ ,” because I hadn't even asked him the most important question: I hadn't asked _why_.

I sat there in complete silence, my room and my world growing darker, until Toby knocked on the door. “Dinner!” he told me. “C'mon, Sarah!” At his age, it still sounded more like _Sawah_.

I couldn't leave him. He was so little and I loved him to death—I'd die for him.

I stood and wiped away the old tears, then opened the door. He still stood there, waiting expectantly. “C'mon, Tobes,” I said, scooping him up as he giggled. “Let's go.”


	3. Chapter 3

School was a distraction in the coming days—my last days, maybe, but I couldn't believe it. But part of me, perhaps unwilling, began to focus on and catalogue the little moments that were so easy to ignore: Karen's honest smile when my father came home, Toby playing in the fall leaves, the shining sun on my papers at my desk. Daylight was so easy to focus on when my dreams had curdled into one endless ocean of white, but something was blossoming in its core. At first it was a single gold line, glinting in the invisible sun, but then it became thicker, growing a bit each night. Unlike dreams, there was no movement; it didn't _end_. I saw that scene the whole time I slept, as though focused on it, until sleep began to feel not at all like sleep, and more like being smothered. Every night, as that thing in the dream grew, I grew more tired.

Something else happened, too. I began to feel an ache in my chest, like a small hole, like I'd been shot. It growled with something I thought was physical hunger, but eating didn't relieve it. And I felt unfathomably empty, frustrated, like when I arrived at school only to find I'd left my books at home, or when I was halfway through a recipe only to find I had no eggs. I wanted _more_ but it was missing.

The king had been right. I would feel it.

* * *

“Bye, Toby. Bye, Karen,” I said, giving them each a kiss. I stopped by the fruit bowl and tucked an apple and a banana in my bag.

“Sarah, I packed your lunch already, didn't I?”

“I'm growing,” I defended. “I need some extra calories. And I haven't gained any weight, so don't worry.”

“Alright,” she said, and with Toby singing a song about “calrees,” I left for school.

It was a short walk, and the weather was lovely, only just beginning to get cold. I inhaled and focused on how the cool air stung my nose. Did they have seasons Underground? Would I ever feel that again?

_It doesn't matter_ , I told myself. _I'm not going Underground._

Our homerooms were sorted by surname, so Ashley, whose last name was Wilkinson, sat right in front of me. She looked tired, but it was she who said, “You don't look so great.”

“Gee, thanks, Ash.”

“I mean you look like you haven't slept.”

“I'm fine.” I couldn't bear to burden her with anything else, could I?

Mr. Drew took attendance before we went to our various classes. I didn't see Ashley again until lunchtime, unfortunately, when I laid out my items. I ate the apple while she ate my sandwich, and I watched her in my periphery. Her advice mattered a great deal to me. Maybe I could frame it in such a way that things wouldn't seem so threatening.

She nudged my knee with hers. “Eat your fruit, Williams.”

“No, _you_ , Wilkinson,” I said, plopping the banana in her lap.

“You're sure?”

I nodded. She dug into the peel and ate it greedily. Around us, the other students were talking, laughing about something, and for a moment I felt, rather judgementally, that it was inane compared to what we were dealing with. I quickly banished the thought; it just _felt_ ugly. I didn't know anyone's story.

I went home—the pile of schoolwork was growing steadily as the quarter continued. But then there came a sudden _click_ , and the Goblin King stood at the edge of my room, as far away from me as possible. I raised my eyebrows at him. “I'm testing the limits of the wish. Here seems safe, surprisingly, considering the word _presence_.”

“You do love loopholes, don't you?” I shook my head. “I never asked you why.”

“Why what?”

“Why this is happening. Does it happen to everyone who conquers your Labyrinth? Conquers _you_?”

He turned his head. “Theoretically,” he said. “You're the first.”

I waited for the jibe, the smirk, the... _something_ , but it never came. “Seriously?”

“ _Seriously_ ,” he repeated. At least it was a bit mocking. “It's only happened to two other kingdoms. One Champion refused and the kingdom was...” He trailed off.

“Was what?”

“Destroyed. Obliterated. To this day, it is a wasteland, a magical void. Make no mistake—that is what will happen to the Goblin Kingdom if you refuse.”

“What does it entail? Being the Champion, I mean.”

“It's...” He was hesitant, careful. “It's a job. A vocation, really. But it's also a terrible burden, and for that I'm very sorry.”

“Is that why you looked so disappointed when I said my right words?”

Rarely in life I'd experienced the sense of having gone too far, of having sliced open an ugly gash in the conversation or relationship. Even though I'd simply been curious to know, the way that he looked at me silently gave me that sense of having damaged something invisible. I looked away, but found myself yawning. I was tired early at night and had been since school had started, as though I'd aged. It felt akin to how I'd feel the day before becoming sick: exhausted, aching, with burning eyes.

“Feeling well?”

“I want to be surprised that you take pleasure in me dying, but I just can't manage it.”

“Pleasure in you dying?” His tone was the essence of innocence. “Never, Sarah. But amusement at your stubbornness? Certainly. Allow me at least that.”

“But it's harming your kingdom, isn't it? So why be amused? Why be here?”

Once again he was silent, and I tried to breathe deeply. For some reason, that sense of wanting in my chest, like a hole, seemed to throb when I was around him, as if steadily growing. “Oh, what the fuck!” I shouted.

“Sarah—”

“It gets worse around you, doesn't it? This—this _feeling—_ ” I gestured at my chest. “—It senses you and grows even faster.”

His face was all seriousness, the full strength of his kingship on his face, and for a moment he was again a creature I feared—only a moment, though. “My kingdom needs you, Sarah. So when time is damage, and there is something I can do to get you faster, I hope you trust that it will happen.”

I stood. I was shaking in rage, not fear, maybe. “I was foolish. I know that. But you have put me in a terrible position. Don't trust that I won't kill you and your lousy kingdom out of sheer spite, because the worse I feel, the longer I _look_ at you, the more tempting it sounds.”

Something in his eyes glimmered. “Oh, won't you, though? You've already wrecked the castle, so I've no doubt of that. And I bet you'd _love_ to see me destroyed. But your friends, the goblins, thousands of innocent creatures live there, and you are so concerned with morality, aren't you? So concerned with doing the right thing. _This_ is the right thing.”

“I can't leave them!”

He was quiet for a moment, gaze blazing through me. “You still haven't told me why you were bleeding.” He tilted his head at me again. “Or did you just do so?”

“Get the fuck out of my room, Goblin King.”

His eyes narrowed and he scowled, but he had the decency to disappear. I abandoned my homework to take Merlin for a walk in the park, too anxious to sit still. Again, I focused on the small things: the friendly panting of his breath; his shaggy, soft fur; the clear autumn sky. This world, _my_ world, the Aboveground, was too beautiful. I couldn't leave it.

By the time we'd circled the park a few times, the sky was dusky and I was calmer, or more tired—I couldn't tell anymore. I began to lead Merlin away, but he suddenly began barking at something. “Hey, hey! Relax,” I admonished him, brushing my hand along his head. _Maybe an owl_ , I thought wryly. But it was the siren of a police car; when it cut off, he stopped squirming. I saw the lights on our return route home, the police car parked behind another, and felt nervous—not because of the criminal, either, especially in this small town. I hoped to pass without being noticed, but the chief saw me and said, “Oh, hello. Sarah, is it?”

“Yes, sir. Hello.”

He nodded at me, but his eyes were sharp under the brim of his hat—or tried to be; compared to the Goblin King's, they looked rather non-threatening. “I haven't seen you around in a while.”

“School's been very busy so far.”

I almost thought he'd mention it, if he even knew about it, but instead he said, “Best be getting home now. It gets dark early these days.”

“Sure does. Have a good night, sir.”

I returned home and tried to encourage Merlin to wipe his paws, but he simply cocked his head at me. “Oh, well,” I muttered, and let him inside.

“Sarah, goodness! We were getting worried about you. Dinner's in a few minutes.”

“Sorry, Karen. Let me wash up and I'll help you set the table.”

“I'll do it!” Toby shouted.

“No,” both Karen and I answered. We'd had enough broken cups for one lifetime.

At dinner, every forkful felt like a ton of weight. “Are you alright, Sarah?” Dad asked.

“Just tired. School's been tough this quarter.”

“It is senior year, after all,” Karen pointed out. “This weekend, the three of us should talk about colleges. It will be time for applications soon.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Sounds great.”

“No,” wailed Toby, waving his spoon as if to protest. His eyes were wet, brimming, threatening to spill over—he wasn't yet past the stage where tears came so easily.

“What's wrong, kiddo?” I asked.

“Jenna Michaels' big sister went away to college. She never sees her anymore. Will that happen to you?” he asked.

I leaned closer to him, a hand ruffling his blonde hair. “No way, Tobes. Even if I go away to college, I'll come back to visit you every weekend that I can.”

“Promise?” he asked, sniffling the tears back.

“Promise. Eat up—you have to stay strong so we can play when I visit.”

He nodded, and his spoon returned obediently to his potatoes. I exhaled in relief.

“May I be excused? I think a longer night's sleep would help me.”

“Certainly,” my father granted.

“Dinner was delicious. Thank you, Karen. Goodnight, guys.” I gave them both a kiss before heading to the stairs, but once I was there, I had to climb them on hands and knees. Crap. I made it into bed but couldn't shed my clothes.

I was a monster, a lying, rotten monster. Knowing the king as I did—if I did—Toby would probably be a hundred years old before I could see him again. I would miss every moment of his precious life.

At that moment, I hated the Goblin King more than I knew it was possible to hate anyone.

That night, in my sleep, I grew more gold in that weird white field—more than usual, due to the king, I was sure—and I was finally able to recognize it: a diadem, a simple crown. Judging by its size, how much of it was completed, I guessed it was a timer of sorts. When the crown was completed, so too would my life be.

The next day in homeroom, I approached Ashley. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” she teased.

I rolled my eyes. “C'mon.”

“Sure.”

“What if you had to make a choice? A choice between what's morally correct, which means giving up on your dreams, or clinging to your dreams but hurting others?”

And the minute I said it like that, I realized that this was so akin to having originally run the Labyrinth that I was unsurprised when she said, brows raised, “It doesn't matter. You still have to do the right thing.”

_The right thing_. Hadn't Jareth said the same? I nodded uncomfortably and looked down, but the bell rang before she could ask questions in return.

In English, I doodled, uninterested in Kate Chopin's proto-feminism. How would Ashley deal with such a task? The same way she dealt with everything, I realized: quiet strength and optimism in the face of hopelessness.

I decided at that moment to hold dear every last drop of life I had left, and hope I could be half as brave as her when it was over.


	4. Chapter 4

It took 71 days for me to die, if I counted them from the day the Goblin King came to see me. I at least kept my promise to hold the rest of it dear, or I tried, because those days were pulled from me.

The hunger in my heart, the physical ache for magic I did not have, gnawed at me. Exhaustion bloomed in my body like nothing I'd ever experienced, and it grew outward to show the world: weight loss, sunken and dull eyes. When I passed people with my awkward steps, they either stared or avoided looking at me, both out of fear. And I was afraid. I was so very afraid but I couldn't fathom what he would want instead.

_You can have Toby_ . I'd sooner have died.

_You can have me_ . I was already dying so it was worthless.

_Your kingdom can rot_ . But he knew me—those infuriating eyes and that damn grin said, _Oh, I know you, Sarah._ And he had been right when he was in my room last.

Hoggle, Ludo, the fairies, the fireys, the goblins—and hell, maybe even the king of the goblins. I didn't want their blood on my hands.

I was not a murderer. I was simply suicidal instead, it seemed.

Even though I was a husk, an empty doll, I went into school because it gave me something to do, something to cling hard to, an excuse to give my parents when they said  _Sarah, we're worried about you_ , and I could say  _But I'm doing well in school; I'm just tired—_

I almost laughed when I said it.  _Tired_ . I almost laughed the whole time Karen and I talked about college and then I went to my room and cried and I whispered into the pillow,  _Goblin King, if you come to me right now, I'll kill you—_

I blinked down at my hands and saw I'd been rubbing at the desk in homeroom, and they were smeared with black ink from where a student had written something, now illegible. My mind felt like it had become unsnared from my skull and it simply went where it wished, and the past and present were one big ink smear. I couldn't tell them apart.

I tried to look ahead. The seat in front of me was empty. Ashley should have been next to me. She hadn't missed a day in three years—perfect attendance looked great on scholarship applications, she'd told me. She'd come in with the flu, with scratches on her face, with anything and everything.

I stood, somehow, inked fingers leaning on the smooth plastic desktop. I didn't, couldn't, hide my stumbling as I approached the teacher's desk. “Mr. Drew, could I go to the nurse's office? I feel awful.”

He glanced up at me, then looked again. “Sure, Williams.” I thought he scribbled a note, but I couldn't see his pen. I blinked and somehow found myself in the hallway, bag on my back, hand clenched and note crumpled within. Had I blacked out? I pressed my hand to my forehead and found it sweaty, hair clinging to my skin. My heart thudded so very slowly. Steps awkward, I made it to the exit and broke out into the blinding, awful sunshine.

Ashley. I had to get to Ashley.

I tried to walk quickly but couldn't. My heart was too slow, so slow, and my muscles stayed frozen, cold. A sound came out of my mouth—impotence—as I crawled along the sidewalk. No, _shit_ —I was actually crawling; at some point I'd dropped to my hands and knees. The stones and dirt dug roughly into my flesh. Eventually my body failed completely, and I simply collapsed on the concrete. I tried to move, but all I managed to do was roll into the street. “Fucking awesome,” I spat into the asphalt. “Squashed by a car.”

“I suppose it's appropriate that this would end where it began.”

I managed, with my last bit of strength, to crane my neck up. The Goblin King stood there, in the black armor he'd worn the first time we'd met, and when we'd met in the street. This street—it was the same stretch of road where he'd approached me. “The way forward is the way back, I guess,” I mumbled. I glanced around, blinking the sweat from my eyes. It was the same road, but things were so still: birds gone, trees motionless, and a woman across the street who was a statue in her yard. It was all I could see before my head hit the hot ground out of weakness, and _ow_. “Did you...?”

“I did, precious. I don't want anyone interrupting us.” I realized then how far away he was.

“Come closer, why don't you? I won't get to see you bleed, but it'd satisfy me nonetheless.”

“Still mad, I see.”

“Just disappointed.” Nausea blanketed me for a moment, and I almost gagged, but eventually my stomach settled. “I wish the Goblin King could come closer without being hurt,” I choked out. Saliva was flooding my mouth.

I heard his boots clicking on the street. “Thank you.”

“I'm dying, aren't I? Right now.”

“Yes, precious.”

I desperately wanted to do something, feel something, but it was the pinnacle of effort for me to speak. “So much...so much I haven't... _I'm not ready_ ,” I hissed.

“Wish, Sarah. You'll recover Underground once you have the magic.”

I started laughing, I think; the saliva that dripped out of my mouth was tinged with swirls of blood. I almost expected it to be black. “It's not fair,” I mimicked myself.

“You have an excellent sense of humor for a dying woman.”

“I'm not alone. Maybe—” I coughed. “Maybe that's why.”

His cool, leather-gloved hand touched my arm. That huge cavern in my chest seemed to double in size, as though pulling at him. “Wish, Sarah. Please. You don't have long.”

“An eternity with you, Goblin King?”

“Jareth.”

“No. Well, fuck it—Jareth. Can't be afraid of your name if I'm going to...” _Die. If I'm going to die_. My heartbeat had slowed to such a crawl that I doubted it was occurring at all. All of my thoughts came slowly, except for, _I don't want this. I don't_ _ **want**_ _to die._

“Sarah, precious, please. Please don't do this.” Was his hand on my back? “My kingdom needs you. It will be irrevocably damaged without you.”

“And its king?”

He paused. I pictured thin lips pressing together before he confessed, “Terrified at the thought of you gone.”

“Bet fear looks good on you,” I whispered, and so much spit was flowing by that point I could barely speak.

There was silence for a moment. I gasped and wheezed hard to keep breathing. “Look at you,” he murmured, and even then I couldn't think, and I would dissect his tone endlessly later on, curious but unsurprised, sympathetic and hateful. He was different from me—his plane of existence was not mine. He could be things I couldn't understand yet and I certainly didn't understand them then, so I only whimpered awfully. He pressed a hand to my forehead and something inside of me howled in hunger. “Please,” he said softly, in that same indiscernible tone.

“ _Please_ ,” I echoed.

His hand sunk deep into my hair, maybe, because my body felt blurry at the edges. “Last chance, Sarah. Say your right words.”

My ear was solid against the asphalt. It was so hot still, so hot. I didn't know the last time I'd heard my heartbeat and _oh god he was right, this was it—_ “I...I wish the Goblin King would take me away right now.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” he breathed in complete triumph and relief, and something inside me clenched and cramped at the sound of it, but before I could retch I was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I posted chapters 3 and 4 together! 4's quite short, but I wanted them to be distinct, and I was eager to get to the next part of the story. I hope you enjoy reading--please let me know what you thought.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you_ .

Those two words were my existence for a while, a gloriously warm and dark while. Past ills and aches, the pains of a dying body, felt distant indeed— _thank you—_ and the horrible pain of wanting and desire was reduced— _thank you_ —but I didn't know who I was or why I'd felt that way. Instead I could curl up in this strange half-existence and I knew it was a relief.  _Thank you_ .

My mind unfurled slowly. My name was Sarah Williams. I was 18. I remembered what I looked like: long, dark brunette hair and green eyes. But then I _felt_ it underneath me, my hair, as I apparently laid on it. When I twisted closer into myself, it got caught underneath me and tugged on my scalp.

I did not like that idea. If I felt it I had a physical form and if I had a physical form it would seem strange to hide in this weird space forever, a space where I could forget myself and everyone could forget about me, like an oubliette.

Oh.

Everything snapped back at once, and I gasped hard into consciousness. So much for unfurling slowly.

The first thing that struck me was how easily I could sit up. For a long time, even that had been a struggle, but my flesh looked fuller, the muscles rebuilt. I wore a simple, plain dress, more akin to a hospital gown. It fit the room, what looked like an infirmary, with clean white walls and bright sunlight. My hands pushed at the mattress, which cradled me well. No ordinary hospital mattress, but I was grateful.

The door opened then, and the Goblin King—no, Jareth now—approached me. He was dressed simply, and without gloves, oddly enough. “Hello,” he said, staying back. “I am glad to see you're awake. Do you...” He shifted his weight to his other foot. Nervousness didn't suit him. “Do you remember anything?”

“Everything up to the part where I died, if that's what you mean.”

“A relief. I feared you might forget during the transition.” He did approach then, sitting on the bed across from me. “How are you feeling?”

“Much, much better, thank you.”

“That will be the magic, I expect.”

_Magic. I had magic._ “How did it, uh...get into me, I guess?” I gestured awkwardly to myself.

“If you'll allow me to continue my chemistry comparisons, magic diffuses. You needed magic, but there is none of it Above. Here, the very essence of the Underground is magic, so it simply flows into you. High concentration to low concentration.” He reached for my arm and wrapped his cool, smooth fingers around it. It was the first time our flesh had ever been in contact, and the slight gnawing I still felt turned into a singing note of satisfaction and desire. I made a sound of such unfettered pleasure and relief and I yanked my arm away immediately, embarrassed, trying to look anywhere but his face. “My magic,” he explained, and I was relieved to hear no amusement in his tone. “The gloves usually form a barrier.”

I looked down at my hands and tried very hard to focus— _make a crystal, make a crystal_ —but instead I made a strange, lopsided bubble of a thing that shattered as soon as it appeared. He laughed, and I glanced up at his face, but it was so genuine—no mockery. I smiled, too, brushing away the crumbs of the thing. “Guess I've got a ways to go,” I said dryly.

“I'm afraid so. But you have a long time to learn, and I will help you.”

There was silence for a moment, but from the look on his face, I could tell he was waiting. “I...I really need to know why you offered that proposal to me at the end of my run.”

He straightened—pulled away from me, I noted a bit wryly. “Then you'd have been my queen, and you wouldn't have to deal with the waiting, the pull of the Labyrinth. You could have left and returned when you were ready.”

“And Toby?”

“I'd have sent Toby back if you'd accepted.”

I stared, just to make sure he wasn't joking. Again, though, his face was totally serious, and the longer I looked, the worse I felt, until tears were spilling down my face.

“I'm...” Hand shaking, I pressed it to my forehead so he couldn't see me crying. “I am so impossibly angry right now. Why didn't you tell me?”

“You had seconds left. You were focused on winning.”

“You could have paused time. Or maybe you were too _exhausted_ ,” I spat, and he stiffened.

“I never really know how to act around you, Sarah,” he mused. “You tried so hard during your run to be brave, and I thought, 'Good. If she's brave, she can handle more.' But you trusted—you ate the peach—and I realized that we weren't playing the same game. A fae would have sensed the trick. And you were scared.”

I burned with embarrassment that I was certain was clear to him—everything else was, apparently. “I was young and it was foreign.”

“I know,” he assured me. “So I've realized that if I ever hope to have a friendship with you, I must play by human rules. Otherwise we'll keep creating these frustrating, ugly memories. Eventually, perhaps, you'll understand the fae perspective, but until then I won't assume you do. It isn't fair to you. I understand humans far better than you understand fae. I've had centuries. You haven't had two decades yet.”

Maybe it was his words or his tone, or the way he hadn't laughed at me yet, but I felt I could believe him. “Did you just say 'it isn't fair'?”

He glowered at me for a moment, but I couldn't hold the act and smiled at him. It surprised me to see how quickly his face smoothed into bemusement, then amusement. “Why, yes, Sarah. Just this once.”

I bit my lip. “I appreciate you being so honest with me. And considerate. I'd very much like to reciprocate. But could I...could I undo it now? Could I be the queen? I'm sure you don't want that,” I added hastily, seeing the owlish tilt of his head, “but could I go back Above?”

He was quiet. I was trying so hard to learn his silences, his expressions, and this one spoke of trying to determine how much to tell me. “I'm afraid that you can't,” he said carefully. “The moment you won, you became the Champion. That can never be undone.”

“And the queen?”

For a moment his face was hard, impassive, but it seemed to crack and he told me, voice dripping regret, “You can't be the queen.”

Our eyes were caught on each other's and I felt my breaths, watched him breathe, like we were sharing the air. _Inhale, exhale, push, pull_. Like the ocean, his mood receded, and he continued on with calm. “No kingdom in the Underground has equal rule. There is always a ruler born to it, and their consort, eventually. The consort has little to no power. Oh, they can command the castle, its everyday workings, but they have no real say in the politics.”

“Are they all women?”

“No,” he assured me. “If I were a woman, the king would be my consort.”

I couldn't help but smirk, thinking somehow of Jareth in a dress that showed far too much cleavage to be decent. “ _Hey_ ,” he said sharply. “I am telling you the truth of rule here. Take it seriously, won't you?”

“Yes, sorry.” I composed my face again. “So where's the threat?”

“The Champion shares the magic of the ruler.”

“I thought you said we shared power. Although...they're the same thing, I suppose.”

“Essentially, yes. So if ever we were to be married, you wouldn't relinquish that—you'd be a queen with real power instead of a consort. And that would make our kingdom very, very powerful indeed. Other kingdoms wouldn't like it.”

“They'd only have to fear us if we went crazy.” I watched him carefully, and had he been a lesser man, a less elegant one, he might have shifted uncomfortably. Instead, the answer came from the way he met my eyes. “Wow. Do fae rulers go crazy often?”

“That depends on how you define _often_. Our longevity works for us and against us, I suppose. Some rulers don't know when they should step down. And some rulers simply _can't_ , depending on who might succeed them.”

“Are succession laws that complex?”

“No—quite simple, in fact. Rule goes to the child of the current ruler or, failing that, the ruler's next youngest sibling. There have been infant rulers, and then of course there is the matter of who the regent will be, if they are fit for the job...” He shook his head, hair moving gently. “But the point stands. If we have two equal rulers, we will have more power than other kingdoms, and it will make other rulers uncomfortable. They might argue that we are a threat—even if we haven't done anything wrong—and they might try to depose us or, worse, attack. And I cannot allow that. My subjects would suffer greatly.”

“Well, I'll try not to marry you without looking,” I joked.

There it was again: that hard look of something like despondence. “For any other female fae, it would be different. She'd have to prove herself first. You've already proven yourself by defeating the Labyrinth, so consummation would be the equivalent of a marriage. So we simply cannot.”

He was saying....oh. I couldn't lie and say I'd never considered it. Everything about him was sensuality: elegant movements; teasing, knowing smirks that bored into me; and perfectly-tailored clothes that outlined every lithe line of his body. The way I'd felt when he touched me a moment ago, our magic meeting, only intensified the thought. He'd been a harbinger of something terrible and enormous for me—always had been—but even the angel of death was an angel.

Still, maybe he'd looked at me that way—maybe there had been a glance, maybe there hadn't—and if what he said was true, then his disappointment at my rejection of his proposal was simply concern for his kingdom. I couldn't show my hand first, not this early in the game. “Do you think that's a real concern for us, Goblin King?” I asked coolly.

He smirked. “Fae can sense arousal on other people, so I suppose we'll find out, _Champion._ ”

“I want something from you, then, in the interest of leveling the field.”

“Oh?”

“I want you to promise or swear, whatever means more, that you'll never use a spell on me without my permission.”

“Quite a demand, precious.”

_Precious_ . He'd called me that when I was dying Above, but I hadn't given any thought to it at the time. In the quiet infirmary, it sounded even stranger. “I think it's reasonable. I'll swear the same to you.”

Jareth considered it for a moment, then said, voice serious, “I swear to never use a spell on you without your permission.”

“How can I believe that?”

“We'll use a blood seal. It's one of the most solemn vows in our kingdom.” He flicked a piece of parchment into existence and pricked his finger on a pin that appeared from nowhere, then pressed the drop of his inky blood to the page. He handed both to me. The page read, in scrawled black handwriting, the promise he'd made. The smudge of blood was above a note that read _Jareth, King of the Goblins_. I impaled my fingertip as well, hissing at the pain, then marked above the line reading _Sarah Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth_. The red next to the black looked quite macabre, but official.

“There. I think that settles it.” He stood to leave. “There's a lavatory through there, and I've left you some books on the kingdom, in case you cannot sleep.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled at me briefly, then turned. I watched him leave without thinking about it, and when he reached the door, he called back, “And you're mistaken, precious. I'd very much enjoy you being queen.”

The subtle emphasis on _enjoy you_ made my whole body feel like it was flushing, and I was grateful when he left a moment later. It saved me from being proven wrong.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes:
> 
> I have had a few reviewers remark that they didn't really understand Jareth's characterization here. I hope this chapter clears things up. One of the great things about "Labyrinth," of course, is the endless array of things we can plug in that still somehow feel true to the work, and while not every Jareth I write is so considerate, I want this one to be fair (yes, fair).
> 
> Also, everyone loves sexual tension, right?
> 
> Right?


End file.
